Faerie Tales
by FaerieKnight197
Summary: A place for my incomplete and stalled ideas to rest. These are stories which have stalled for months (or years) that I hadn't felt like posting separately. Alternately, they may be shorts which are complete, but don't really justify having their own story posting in my mind. Updates will be sporadic at best, and while some entries may get continued, they may not.
1. Bane of the Night

**_Disclaimer:_** _I am not the owner of Worm or the Nightbane setting. I make no money for this, it was written for my and other's enjoyment. Primarily my own._

 _Parahuman, it is a term created to label those who had powers. Such people have an additional part in their brain. No one knows why some people have the potential to become one while others don't. Or at least, if anyone does know they aren't speaking. Since their first appearance in the eighties the world has changed. It had become darker, more hopeless. Gangs had arisen which no normal police officer could hope to face. Seemingly unstoppable mass murderers who cut a bloody swath across the USA too had become the norm. And then there are the Endbringers._

 _Endbringers are called such because they are unstoppable, unkillable, and are driving humanity towards it's inevitable extinction. Not that the public at large knows this last fact. There are three of them. One of fire, one of water, and one that came from the vastness of space. Each has destroyed cities, sometimes whole countries. With each appearance many on both sides of the conflict, hero and villain, die. When one of these monstrosities appears it's a good day if only a third of the defenders parishes._

 _What gives someone the chance to become a parahuman may not be known. But what actually gives a person their powers sure is. These events are called trigger events. If one were to imagine the worst possible day they could possible have, they might be close. Such events are traumatic and always leave mental scars. Is it any wonder that villains outnumber heroes in most major cities? Parahumans got their powers after all when they hit rock bottom. When things get so hard the person brakes, that is when the rare man or women suddenly gets powers._

 _This is a relatively new phenomenon. Parahumans have only existed for three decades or so. A drop in the bucket when compared to the history of mankind. The world thinks the appearance of Scion was the first time something extraordinary had occurred. The public is wrong. Dead wrong in fact. There's a shadow war which has raged for as long as mankind has existed. This war is for the heart, soul, and very life of humanity. In this hidden conflict champions are rare. And we lose far more often then we win._

 _But if no one were to fight, then the monsters would have free reign. And make no mistake, for the monsters you disregard as myth and legend are all too real. When old maps said "here there be dragons" it wasn't superstition. When Stephen King wrote his novel Needful Things he was documenting actual events. And Wes Craven didn't just write a horror movie for New Line Cinima, he was putting out a warning. As for me, I hunt that which stalks humanity. I walk in dark places so you can live safe in the light. And when I fall, others will take up the torch._

 _You who read this, know that it's now your turn. If you're holding it, I am dead. And if you can read it, you are already in my world. It doesn't matter if you want to fight or not, you wont be given a choice. For like me, you are the bane of the Night. And like me Evil will seek your death or corruption. So heed my words. Learn to harness your gifts, and regardless of how horrific they may seem they are indeed gifts. I can't know what gifts you have, but there are some that all Nightbane possess. And I will guide you as you discover what you can do._

 _To start with, I have to apologize. You aren't human, not anymore. And maybe you never were. That's something that's never been proven one way or the other. I call you the Bane of the Night or Nightbane because that is what our kind are. There are stories, old stories mind you, that speak of a formless shifter that was nearly killed. This formless one was nether male nor female, it just was. It was attacked by something, the tales aren't clear what exactly this 'something' was. It was merely called "the lords of night"._

 _According to legend, we are the fragments of the Formless One. Or maybe descendants of it. I'm not entirely sure. Either way, us Nightbane share similarities with parahumns. We're born to humans, and we initially appear human. Or maybe we are human initially. As I said, this is unclear. Either way, until a specific moment we're indistinguishable from the rest of humanity. That all changes when we first shift. The cause is different for everyone. I know someone who first shifted when his baby daughter was stolen by the fae. I shifted for the first time when a werewolf tried to kill my family. Someone else I know shifted the first time when her husband revealed he was a mage._

 _The point is that it's not always the worst moment of your life, unlike with parahumans. Usually however it occurs during an encounter with the supernatural. Note that I said "encounter", not "attack by". Such encounters aren't always hostile. And you'll find allies in places and beings you might not have expected. Speaking of shifting, I imagine you're still in your true form. Or as you might be thinking of it, your monster form. You'll probably be glad to know that you're not stuck like that. We can indeed resume our human appearance. This form is usually called our facade. Our monstrous form is usually called our true form. Although I like to think of it more as our battle form. It can be horrifying or unearthly beautiful. Or any variation in between. But regardless of what you look like, your battle form does give you unique gifts._

 _But you're probably wondering how to return to your facade. Well, here is what you need to do..._

 _ **XxXxX**_

She came to in a field with books growing like flowers all around. This was a stark departure from where the girl had previously been. A rattling sound caused her to spin in place. The next thing she knew barbed chains had wrapped around her. Getting loose took several painstaking, and painful, minutes. Only then did the girl realize the chains were secured to her forearms by meat hooks that were thrust through the arm. The wounds thus caused were raw and oozed blood on occasion.

Horrified, the girl fell backwards. _The hell?!_ She thought. Trying to pull the hooks out did nothing. Although she did notice another change while frantically trying to remove the chains. For the first time in her life Taylor Hebert had a bust. An impressive one at that. This wasn't the only change. Soon Taylor discovered she now possessed a pair of wings covered in black feathers. Her cloths too were different. Gone was the hoodie and jeans she'd worn to school. Instead she was garbed in a leather bustier, black tights, and thigh high black leather heels.

Her hair too seemed different. Before it had been shoulder length and brown. If honest with herself, Taylor had been rather proud of her hair. It was her best feature. Now it appeared to reach the middle of her back and was as white as freshly fallen snow. The chains when she finally examined them each proved to be two feet long. The loose ends also were vicious looking meet hooks. Eventually she finished taking stock of herself and turned her attention back to the field.

One of the books appeared more substantial then the rest, somehow. So she picked it as if the book was indeed a flower. An action which which both looked and felt weird. It was titled Defending the Night, and was written by someone named Azreal the Dream Walker. As she began to read Taylor's eyes widened comically. Initially it had seemed a book on parahumans. But the author claimed to be a solider in some sort of secret war. The claim sounded ridiculous. Magic after all wasn't real. Although many of the tips in the first chapter did seem to work for her.

Among them was the advice on how to return to a normal appearance. As the barbed chains withdrew into her arms and he body shrank Taylor released a sigh of relief. It was also a relief that her cloths returned to normal at the same time. Following that success she practiced switching between the two forms. The advice actually helping made her even more sure the unknown writer had been a parahuman.

Another part of the book had been a treatise on the many known 'talents' of what the author called nightbane. It took several of hours worth of experimentation to determine that none of them were what she possessed. Well, other then being insanely strong and more agile then normal she didn't possess any of them. Eventually the only ones described she hadn't tried was entering what was called the 'astral plane' and 'river of dreams'. Strangely, the way to attempt both ws identical. Reading over that section of the book again, she thought _focus your potential energy internally? How do you do that?_

 **XxXxX**

The first real sign of trouble was the multiple police cruisers and CSI van parked in front of the school. Although this didn't truly alarm Sophia. She had been half expecting this sight ever since she'd first enrolled in Winslow High. Thus she was more curious which gangs were involved. As the african American teen approached her locker however she began to feel a little uneasy. Police tape was blocking he hallway. _Why the hell are those morons by her locker?_ Sophia though with annoyance. _Fuck, that stinks. I can smell it from here. Didn't anyone clean it yet? Smells like she died in there. Heh, would serve the bitch for not knowing her place._

It was then that Hebert, the girl she'd been targeting for almost year fell out of the befouled locker. There were cuts and contusions covering the girl's body. Seeing this, one of the officers knelt down beside Hebert. Whatever was said, it was too low for Sophia to hear it. She saw the Hebert girl struggling to her feet and pointing at Sophia in accusation. Moments later she heard the distinctive sound of Armsmaster's motorcycle puling up. Panicking, she shifted into her shadow state and dived through a wall.

Several more walls were bypassed, and Sophia dropped through the floor into a boy's bathroom. Confidant now that the officers wouldn't know where she is, the teen threw both her Wards phone and personal phone into a trash can. Glancing in one of the mirrors brought Sophia up short. There was an eerily beautiful angelic woman standing behind her. Her wings were black as night and folded up behind her back. The woman was easily seven feet tall. But the most distinctive thing was the chains hooked through the angel's forearms. Chains which writhed in the air as if they were alive.

The horrific angel glared at Sophia, then spoke in a melodious voice. "You! A ward? You are no hero. You're just another monster. And you know what happens to monsters..."

The chains lashed out, painfully tearing into Sophia despite being in her breaker state. Soon one of them wrapped around her neck and started to lift Sophia into the air. Breathing was now painful. As her vision began to grow dark the angel again spoke, condemning Sophia... With a scream she awoke. Her body was covered in sweat and her sheets were a tangled mess. A glance at the alarm clock showed that it was a little past two in the morning.

"Not again," Sophia managed to get out between gasping breaths.

" _You are no hero,"_ a voice whispered.

It was a familiar voice. One which Sophia had heard too often in her dreams for the last month. Spinning around, she saw the horrific angel from her dreams floating through the wall. _That's my brother's room!_ She thought in panic. Only to hear a crashing sound coming from that room. Diving through the wall in her shadow state, she saw the angel wrapping her chains around what looked like a teddy bear. Only the stuffed animal had pointed teeth and was holding a butcher's knife. When the toy growled angrily Sophia found herself frozen in terror. Mutely she watched the fight, if one could call it that. Soon the demonic toy fell to the ground, no longer moving. Once that happened the angel vanished as if she'd never existed.

It was with a shaky hand that Sophia called in a report of what had just happened.

 **XxXxX**

If it wasn't for the remains, Piggot wouldn't have believed Shadow Stalker's wild claims. For the last month Shadow Stalker had been growing increasingly erratic. Her sleep had been restless due to frequent nightmares. The most the therapists had been able to get was a "monstrous angel" was stalking her dreams. But not what those dreams actually were. But now she claimed this nightmare was after her in the waking world as well. It was in a word ridiculous. Yet The evidence of a fight was clear, and the remains of a living stuffed animal were all too solid. Or at least they had been for three hours.

Which meant a parahuman was going after Shadow Stalker in her civilian identity. Since from the description this was probably a recent trigger, the question that needed to be answered was 'Why Shadow Stalker'. Another important question was how this was being done, and if the toy like creature was a creation of the unknown parahuman. With such thoughts runnng through her mind, she turned back towards the endless flow of paperwork.

Only, she couldn't read any of it. Each page was complete gibberish. And when she tried to call her secretary, nobody answered. Contacting the Protectorate proved to be useless as well. It was as if nobody else was in the building. Then the door to her office started to open. Piggot reached for the pistol she kept holstered underneath her desk, only it wasn't there. With the door open, Piggot tried to see who was on the other side. Only the hallway was pitch black. From the inky darkness steeped a white haired giant of a woman. Her ebon wings flapped a couple times as the figure stepped into Piggot's office.

"You need to wake up now," the figure said in a melodious voice before vanishing.

The intruder alarms were what woke Director Piggot up. Looking around brought to her attention a disheveled and filthy teenage girl. At least, she assumed it was a girl based on the blood soaked clothing. The girl looked to be maybe fifteen, possibly sixteen. She was thin and it was clear the youth had yet to have her final growth spurt. This was made evident by the way the teen's mouth was slightly too wide for her face. Her hair was brown. Or at least the hair that wasn't matted with blood was brown.

"Did you know Sophia Hess was bullying me?" The teen asked. "Did you know she tried to _kill_ me in school? That she shoved me in a locker filled with rotting tampons and hungry insects? Don't answer. Emma's guilt has been given life. It's hunting the wards, and I can't stop it alone."

 **AUTHOR NOTES:**

I'll be honest here, I was inspired to start writing this after watching A Nightmare On Elm Street (original and the remake). But it's not a Nightmare on Elm Street cross. It is a Worm/Nightbane cross. Nightbane, for those unaware, is a pen and paper rpg published by Palladium Books. I went with the idea that the main bad guys of the setting, the Night Lords, had planned to launch their takeover of Earth a couple decades earlier then in the setting's cannon year of 2000. Only before they could pull of Dark Day the Thinker entity crashed into the nightlands, killing most of the night lords who were collaborating on the project.

For this story I rolled up Taylor as a nightbane, coming up with Flawed Beauty for her morphus appearance. Rolling some additional times, I got Physical Perfection and Fallen Angel from he Unearthly Beauty table, and two stigmatas. The first is Eternal Wounds, thus the hooks painfully embedded in her forearms. The second stigmata was "stomach tentacles" from the Between the Shadows supplement book. This I modified to be the chains instead of her intestines launching out as tentacles.

As for her nightbane talents, both are taken from Between the Shadows. The first (and free) one is Dreamer, which lets her physically enter and leave the dream realm. The second one (which had to be bought) lets her physically become an astral being, thus enter the astral realm. While I started this tale with the intention of it being a full multi-chapter story including a prologue where Taylor first learns of her powers, I'm not sure where to go with it now. The Living Nightmare obviously would be a main foe for the story. Think Freddy from the Nightmare on Elm Street series, only living nightmares were never human.


	2. Afterimage

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Worm, Flash, or the Justice League. I make no money off this, nor do I intend to. It's written primarily for my own enjoyment in the act of writing._

They say powers emerge on the worst day of your life. In fact this is often called a 'trigger event'. When you hit the bottom and can lose nothing else except your life, something happens. A new organ grows in your brain and bam, you have powers. That didn't exactly happen to me. My name is Stephanie Erica West, and I am the daughter of the fastest man alive. Call me Stevie. That introduction may confuse you. You see, I'm not from this Earth. In fact, I'm not from an Earth anywhere even near this dimension. My home was often called Earth Four, named so because of the fifty-two known universes. All of them are a variation of each other,

These could be simple things like how in Earth Two Barry Allan came back to life after my father's death. I wasn't born in that dimension. Or bigger changes like the Justice League being super criminals instead of heroes. But as I said, there were only fifty two known universes. But perhaps that was just in my branch of the multi-verse. Clark told me once about how he'd had to fight a big green rage monster with the mind of a scientist to protect our dimension. The rage monster Clark said came from another set of realities entirely.

How I got here, well that's an interesting question. And I'm not entirely sure of the answer. It happened when I was young. A crazy man in a yellow body suit attacked our home. He did something, and I found myself falling through an endless void. That was the day I first connected to it. The speed force that is. What is the speed force? It's hard to explain. According to dad it's an energy that all speedsters tap into. The method varies. The Quick family use a mathematical equation. Jay, the original Flash inhaled fumes from heavy water. Dad and Uncle Berry were struck by lightning and knocked into various chemicals. Me, I was thrown out of my own dimension by a madman.

Usually the speed force grants super speed. Insane levels of super speed at that. How insane? Uncle Berry could travel through dimensions just by running while vibrating at the right frequency. Dad hit the speed of light once. Both Dad and Uncle Berry could travel through time just through sheer speed. Dad has to use something called the Cosmic Tredmill for that trick. Uncle Berry was able to do it unassisted. So yeah, super speed. That's the legacy I expected when I plunged head first into the speed force. Instead, it just felt like the world slowed down around me.

No, I didn't 'upshift' as Dad once put it. Everything was still moving at the same speed, including myself. It was just my perception that sped up. Lamest Superpower Ever. It took me six years to master downshifting my perception so the world doesn't appear glacially slow. Oh yeah, guess you are wondering what I've been doing since arriving here. Well, mostly I've just been going to school. My foster parents aren't too bad. Mister Barnes does have a vindictive streak though. He usually channels that into his work. My foster sister Emma changed last year. She use to be a kind person, but lately she's been cruel. Mister Barnes doesn't believe me when I tell him though.

Up ahead I could smell something foul. Then I saw Emma and her best friends picking on Tay. I like Tay, and Emma use to like her too. I don't really understand what Emma has against her. Everything slowed down around me as I realized what the source of the smell was. And what the Hess girl was about to do. I knew I wasn't going to make it in time. I was on the other end of the hallway after all. Still, nobody deserves to be locked in with that sort of filth. I had to try. Then I felt something, my connection to the speed force strengthened all of a sudden. And I knew I was going to make it.

Even as I ran I hit a button on my ring. It was the only thing I had left from Dad. A present he'd given me for when I inevitably become a hero. It runs in the family after all, pun fully intended. Unlike Dad my costume is a dark pink, not red. It's still bright and colorful, but clearly a shade of pink. When I was nine I kind of insisted upon that. Also unlike Dad's costume, mine forms around me. Dad and Uncle Berry have to put their costume on. I didn't like the idea of having to strip to change into it. It's made of some sort of nano fabric. Mister Terrific made it. That means it'll adjust as I grow, and repair it's self when not in use. Don't ask me how.

Other then the main color, it's exactly like Dad's costume. Well, modified to fit a girl of course. At first I was confused. The costume formed around me, replacing my street cloths as it went. Yet I wasn't going any faster. Then I took my tenth running step. Suddenly I was next to Tay. My sped up perception told me Hess was pushing already. So I grabbed Tay. Step, and now I'm further down the hall, I can see the intersection. Step, now I'm near the front door. I release Tay and begin to turn around. Step, my foot is on the wall, and I"m facing back the way I came. The front door is a good ten feet behind me.

With each step I found myself in a new location, always one I could see. Six steps after I'd dropped off Tay I'm slamming her locker door closed. Step, I check my watch and realize only five seconds has elapsed since the first displacement. Woo hoo! I finally got my speed! Or something like it at least. But all the rapid displacement is kind of disorienting. Nobody saw me change into my costume. After all, I'm a loner. And it's Tay that's the public target in this craptastic school.. So I'm quickly in an out of the way spot. Only takes me ten steps to do so. Then after making sure nobody can see me I push the button to return my costume to the ring.

The rest of the day was pretty boring after that. Everyone was talking about the 'cape' that 'attacked the school'. All anyone saw was a pink blur. This was how I learned of the energy flash that had occurred after each step. It had obscured details of my costume to the point all anyone knew was dark pink and humanoid. Of course it was Emma, and Hess that started the rumors of me attacking the school. Have to cover up their attempted assault somehow, right? After school I knew I'd be testing the limits of my ability, as well as getting use to the sudden shifts in perspective. That was a process which according to dad can take a while.

After school I caught up with Tay as she was trying to sneak out of the school. And it wasn't going to work, I could see that immediately. Emma and Hess had managed to find her too, and along with their flunky Madison they were in the process of boxing Tay in. Even from behind I could see how angry the three were. I could also see how scared Tay was of them. Have to give her credit, despite her fear and depression, Tay has a strength of will you wouldn't believe. Not once has she broken under the constant abuse. I respect that.

"What the hell, Emma?" I called out as I casually approached. "When did you decide acting like a rabid dog is a good idea?"

Before they turned around I had dialed 911 on my cell and put it on speaker. There was going to be violence today, I knew it. Tay knew it. And the three thugs in training knew it too. Since the school did nothing to help a victim, I was going to do something Dad always recommended. When the local authority is too corrupt to protect the innocent, you go around them to one that isn't corrupt. If they all are corrupt, you step in yourself to protect the innocent. That's what it means to be a hero. Not fighting criminals, not stopping natural disasters, nothing like that. A hero is someone who risks everything to protect others. It's as simple as that.

"Stay out of it," Emma snarled at me.

"Sorry, no can do." Was my reply as I got closer still.

Every fiber of my being wanted to run, to get in there _now_ and stop this. But I still didn't know exactly what I can do. Let alone how to control what I do. And this was something Stevie West, daughter of Wally West could do. I didn't need to be the daughter of the fastest man alive. Just being myself was enough. It would have to be enough anyway. Tay tried using my distraction to slip away, but Hess didn't let that happen. I winced when I saw Tays head cave in a locker door. It was just a little, but still. That showed just how much force had been used on that push.

Even as Hess was turning around I had already made the call a video conference. I wanted there to be no doubt about what had happened. I love bluetooth and wireless phone controls. Well, no., that's not quite accurate. I love League quality wireless phone controls. The ear bud and wireless microphone I always wore was from Dad after all. And as I said, he always knew I'd be joining the family business one day. I never told anyone about it for fear of some Tinker as this world calls inventors taking it away from me.

"Oooh, real tough aren't you Hess? So tough you can hurt someone who has no training. Think you can do the same with me? Or do you only attack those who can't defend them self?"

Emma 'helpfully' informed her 'friends' "She's talking out her ass. The scrawny wimp can't even walk a block."

That wasn't strictly speaking true. I ran every day. Every single day. I just did so at night so if I ever gained super speed nobody would see my first disastrous run. Beyond that I did cultivate the appearance of being out of shape. Which isn't exactly difficult when you wake up sore and tired from running late at night. As they say, the best place to hide is right in plain sight. Other then running my mouth I hadn't actually done anything aggressive. I wanted them to be the ones who do that.

"You're weak, just like her." Hess said, speaking to me at last. "Guess you need to be shown where prey like you belongs too."

Don't get me wrong. I tried to fight back. And until I got thrown through the dimensions I had been learning to fight since a young age. The problem is the family's fighting style is more about high speed brawling. It uses momentum to add force to impacts, and speed to let you avoid retaliation. It's very effective, if you're a speedster. But if you're not, or you for some reason can't use your speed it's not a very good style. And it showed. Hess left me with a broken arm and probable concussion by the time the police showed up and the three bullies fled.

As I struggled to stay conscious I told the responding officer "Phone, got camera, recording."

The fact that Emma was also kicking me after I'd been forced to the ground didn't sit well with me. We'd been close. As close as actual sisters in fact. Just what could turn someone that sweet and caring into the bully I saw today? And what exactly was the jolt I'd felt towards the end? Tay was twitching on the ground as if she'd been electrocuted. Could it be that... No, it wasn't worth considering that. But it was possible.

With my family, lightning really can strike from out of the blue. It happened twice already with spectacular results after all. Even so Tay wasn't an Allan or a West. So the odds of that happening should be lower then the odds of lightning striking someone twice. No matter, I put the idea out of my mind. If it became important later I'd revisit it. But not until then. My thoughts got interrupted as an officer found my phone. Not that it was that well hidden. It got taken as evidence due to the recording of what had happened. A shame, I liked that phone.

 _ **XxXxX**_

From my hospital bed I had a front row seat to a very sad three ring circus. But then again so did everyone else in the nation. Between the Hess girl escaping a a jail cell in the dead of night through unknown means, Shadow Stalker being captured as she tried entering the hospital Tay and I were in with loaded crossbows and lethal ammunition, and Mister Barnes getting in trouble for knowingly encouraging witnesses to lie under oath the news media was having a field day. That shit storm was landing square on the faculty of Winslow High as well.

Dateline did a special episode on the corruption in Winslow High and how the school covered up an extensive bullying campaign. I hadn't realized it was quite that bad. I knew it was bad, but still. Several groups also began to demand full accountability of the Protectorate and PRT when how Hess managed to escape jail came to light. I'd not realized Hess was Shadow Stalker. It was amusing to watch the unfolding drama in a sick way. Kind of like how you can't turn away from a train wreck no matter how badly you want to. You just have to see.

As for why I was still in the hospital, that was because I wasn't healing. At all. In fact I was constantly feeling exhausted, like I'd ran a marathon without knowing it. Of course Tay was in the bed next to mine. She hadn't woken up yet. The reason we shared a room was due to something odd that kept happening. Every morning just after I'd wake up a bolt of lightning would arc from me to Tay. That's when I would start to feel exhausted. It faded by evening though. Rather annoying. This also meant nothing electronic could be kept in the room. The initial heart monitor had been fried after all. As had the second one.

That morning the drain hadn't been as bad as it had the previous times. The doctors had yet to determine why this was happening. Me, I knew. It wasn't common knowledge on Earth 4, but all speedsters are connected to the speed force. What was even less known was that Uncle Barry wasn't dead. Not exactly anyway. He'd merged with and became part of the speed force. This happened during events which history books called the Infinite Crisis. Not much was known about what happened. At least not much was known by the public.

I'd never met Uncle Barry. He died before I was born after all. I'd seen his picture though. And everyone in Central City has been to the Flash Museum at least once. So how do I know Uncle Barry is still alive? Because he visited me. In the space of a second he stopped by and told me what was going on. About a threat which rivaled the Anti-Monitor and how I'd been picked by the Lords of Order to do something about it. Me, not Dad. Not Doctor Fate or the Justice League. Me. Uncle Barry also told me my room mate had been deemed worthy by the Speed Force its self. She was still unconscious and the arcs of electricity was the speed force fighting off a parasitic presence, through me apparently.

Then he was gone. The entire visit had only taken a couple seconds at most. There was no physical evidence he'd ever been there. But I knew it had happened. The rest of that week I was in a funk. Finding out some cosmic entities had decided to play god with my life, and that was why I was impossibly far from my family hit me hard. When I'd first arrived here I had been sure Dad and his friends would rescue me any minute. Over the years that hope had slowly died. And now I was thinking about Dad again. Damn.

Although the visit did get me thinking. To my knowledge Tay hadn't been exposed to anything nasty. On the other hand multiverse level threats to my way of thinking must have strange ways to do things. And just why was I selected for this instead of someone more capable? It made me really wish the Justice League were here. But they weren't. Instead there was the Protectorate. And I wasn't sure how much I trusted them. After all their track record against the big threats like Lung or even those endbringer things was less the impressive. Even the lesser things didn't impress me much.

Still, they had the resources needed to face this unknown danger, if they knew about it. Unfortunately I doubted Tay would have the benefit of a secret identity. Neither would I, most likely. In fact, I had already decided that Mister Hebert needed to know what had happened to his daughter. My thoughts got distracted when I heard movement from across the room. And groaning. The electrical light show for today had just ended, and it sounded like Tay was finally waking up.

"Welcome back Tay," I said once I was sure my friend was fully awake. "We need to talk, but not here.

 **Author Notes:**

This story came about after I got rejected from a Mutants & Masterminds game based on an apocolyptic future of the DC Universe. The GM wanted interesting takes on DC heroes and villains, and I came up with a variant on The Flash who uses the speed force for short range teleports while running. To make it less broken (and afordable) there were a few weaknesses. First of all, the teleporting only starts after 9 consecutive running steps. She must keep running to continue teleporting. There must be a solid object for her foot to land on where she appears, even if it's just a piece of falling glass. And she can only teleport to someplace she can see. Oh, and the flash of light which leaves a brief afterimage after each teleport.

The GM rejected my pitch in favor of "great great grandson of Barry Allan, has superspeed just like his parents and grandparents before him". My idea was too different I guess. But I didn't want to abandon the concept, so started writing a story about the daughter of Wally West, who would become known as Afterimage when in costume. Surprisingly it ended up set in the Worm timeline. Fun story, Worm. The problem is, I've been staring at this story for 3 months now, and have no idea how to continue it.


	3. Wormfinder

**_Disclaimer:_** _I don't own Worm or the Pathfinder setting. I'm not making any money from this, it's written purely for my own enjoyment of writing.  
_

 _ **Flayre Blazefist**_

People who know me, know that I am a man of my word. If I say I will do something then I will do it. Good, evil, these things are irreverent. What matters is upholding the fabric of society. It is for this purpose I usually put my skills to the test. But as I said, I am a man of my word. And I had promised the pathfinder society my aid in finding a ruin they are searching for. Most of the original team they had sent out was killed by a succubus. Eh, it happens. Shame when it does, but such things are one of the many dangers when you poke your nose into where it's not wanted.

The new team that was formed consisted of myself, a young man named Davon, a wild lass who called herself Rijorn, and a magus that was the sole survivor of the previous group. Didn't catch his name. Oh, who am I? I suppose that's a fair question. Name's Flayre, and I'm known as the Blazing Fist. Or just Flayre Blazefist if you prefer. Anyway, as I was saying. What do you mean I shouldn't try to be punny? We'd finally located the temple the pathfinders wanted us to investigate.

All told the place was kind of dull. Lots of ruined architecture, stagnant pools of water, mutated monstrosities trying to kill us, and far too many undead for my liking. All in all a pretty average excursion. At least it was until Davon started destroying support pillars left right and center during a battle. One second we're fighting this big ass monstrosity, the next the ceiling is collapsing on all of us. Not my idea of fun. I saw the magus go down when large chunk of stone crushed his head.

After that I was too busy trying to stay alive. I felt someone grab my arm. Just as I was about to throw whoever it was my world began to spin chaotically. When everything stabilized I turned around and saw who had grabbed me. It was Rijorn, and she had blood trailing down the side of her head. I didn't recognize where we were. The walls weren't made of stone, but I couldn't tell what they were made from. And there were many metal doors lining the hall. The doors looked too small to be open into a passage. And there were too many.

And what was that gods damned stench?! Since Rijorn appeared to be safe for the moment, I turned my attention to tracking down a faint pounding I could hear. To my horror, the pounding was coming from the same place as that foul aroma of death and rot. Only then did I hear a voice pleading. The language I didn't recognize. But that wasn't remarkable. There's a lot of languages I can't speak. With but a thought I sheathed my hands in solidified water. Then I punched what looked like some sort of lock.

Never before had I seen a lock with a dial instead of a keyhole. And I am no master thief. But the force of my blow shattered the device, as well as punched through the thin metal of the door. Once I'd pulled my hand out of the newly made hole I opened the passage. This revealed a storage space, as well as a human girl who looked deathly pale. Quickly I did grab her and pull her out of the filth I could now see. A faint breeze was constantly swirling around the human. It caused her short brown hair to blow about uncontrollably. Was she too gifted with power over the elements? It would appear so.

I could see many small electrical burns across her arms and legs. She also had, was that a maggot actually digging it's way into her leg?! I could feel her pulse fading. I'd already pushed myself as far as I could. My body couldn't withstand any more strain from overloading it. But there was one thing I could do. Calling upon the elemental plane of water, I pushed the energy I gathered into her body. I could see her injuries lessening. Feel her pulse becoming stronger.

Yet equally I could see the strain it was putting on her body. Even so it was worth the price she was paying. Saving a life is worth a bit of fatigue and sore muscles. And it would fade in time. Not to mention I knew she'd have to get use to this feeling. It was the price those like her and I pay for our gifts. With the human girl no longer at risk of death, I turned back to my companion. And maybe friend. She too wasn't looking very good. While not at death's door, Rijorn was hurt badly enough that I healed her too. Once again I had to let my friend suffer the price of me healing her.

Once both Rijorn and the girl came around I asked if my companion could aid with communication. I then explained that the local language was like nothing I'd ever heard of. My friend was still looking woozy though. Come to think of it, I'd had to heal her a few times since hitting my limits. At least she could stand though. The human girl I'd rescued was unconscious still. And quite frankly, I wasn't sure if waking her was a good idea yet. So carefully I picked the unknown girl up and guided my friend outside.

A task which took longer then I'd expected, I don't mind saying. Still it was an important one. What we learned however was that we were nowhere either of us recognized. Nor was the local language anywhere near understandable. I thought everyone speaks Common, hence why the language is known as such. And what was up with those strange contraptions traveling down the paved lanes? Nor did I recognize what sort of stone the lanes were made from. It was black though. There were pathways next to the lane made of an unusual gray stone. Again like nothing I'd ever seen.

"Where in the abyss are we now?" I muttered quietly.

 _ **Interlude: Taylor Hebert**_

Ever since she'd met those two her life had taken a strange turn. On the one hand, she knew two capes. And was one herself. On the other hand, she knew two _strange_ capes and nobody in the Protectorate had believed she had powers until Taylor accidentally zapped a computer. Apparently her trigger was unlike any others known. She didn't spontaneously gain a new part of the brain, so wasn't a parahuman. Of course her dad knew as well. It was kind of hard to hide when she accidentally fried the TV.

The good news, if you could call it that, was that there was an investigation going on into why exactly nothing had been done about the bullying in Winslow High. It seemed an unknown cape having to rescue and heal a dying student was enough to bypass the general apathy. It was also enough to prevent Emma's father from covering things up. It didn't particularly feel like a victory however. Not when Shadow Stalker was actively trying to kill her.

Taylor dodged to the left as yet another bolt narrowly missed her. Her entire body ached. The crackling electricity that covered her skin was proof that Taylor had been forced to push herself far more then she'd have liked. Wind was whipping her hair everywhere, although it didn't affect anything else. She glared not at her attacker, but the man watching things calmly.

"Why?" Taylor demanded.

Shadow Stalker was with the Wards, the teenager division of the Protectorate. Not much was known publicly about her though. Not that this helped with figuring out why a hero was trying to kill her. The winds surrounding Taylor caused a crossbow bolt which was about to strike Taylor in her stomach to veer off course, embedding it in a chimney. The bolt of electricity fired in return went wide, striking a lightning rod instead. After the first one had hit Shadow Stalker, the crazed heroine had started to dodge instead of relying on her shadow form for defense.

"I'll step in if you're in trouble," her mentor said calmly.

That calm could grate on the nerves. How could someone face down the gangs with no fear? Face people with GUNS without flinching? Finally after three more crossbow bolts were sent off course due to the swirling winds surrounding Taylor she managed to tag Shadow Stalker with an electric bolt. This had the result of Shadow Stalker collapsing to the roof while twitching. The exhausted teen pulled a cell phone out of her belt and hit speed dial one. Once someone answered she spoke.

"This is Tesla," Here she paused with a sigh. "I have a downed Ward with me. It's Shadow Stalker, not sure why she attacked."

When Taylor asked why her mentor had a camcorder with him, he told her "Because it's better then a written after action report.

 _ **Rijorn Wordbender**_

I've spent most of my life alone. That's not by choice. Or at least originally it wasn't. My parents were wandering merchants. And when they died we were in the middle of the wilderness. I grew up in the jungle. And over time I learned a bit of my parents trades. Dad had been skilled at working leather, while Mom was an accomplished jeweler. Me, I'm no where near as skilled as they were. Or at least, I don't think I am. What I make always looks crude and unfinished.

Even so, I am skilled at one thing my parents never could do. When I was young I found the Names of many things. And Names as I learned have a kind of power. By describing something, you make it be. Some would call it magic. And perhaps it is. For me, it's just been a talent of mine. To Name things and cause them to happen. To describe to the world how how I want something to be, and it becomes what I described. I'm told what I do is called enchanting, but it's not that simple. Or rather it's exactly that simple yet more complex.

Take the white gemstone I had before me. I knew what I wanted to try. I understood the nature of both the stone and the desired end result. But it was something I'd never attempted before. Normally I make belts, boots occasionally, and the odd headband. These I'm good at describing. But this white gem situated in a thin leather circlet was for a new project. If this worked, I would give it to the child. If not, it would probably need to be destroyed as a dangerous mistake. I've had a few of those. It's why I always wear gloves when handling a newly Described object.

"Remember, child, always wear protective garments when you handle something you or another Craft. I have seen broaches cursed to become scarabs that kill in seconds, and storage containers that eat any who are foolish enough to stick their hand inside. Until you know for sure something is safe, it isn't. Target sense magic"

I'm told my eyes glow when I use that Description. Never seen that myself. But then again I'm not one for vanity. The wilderness is not the place for preening. Unless you're a bird of course. Studying the stone carefully, I finally deemed it probably safe to use. There were no harmful effects that I could determine. That didn't mean there were no harmful effects though. Just that I couldn't find any. Which to be honest was as close to safe as I could make things. There was still a risk involved. And I'd have preferred someone who can deal with curses to be on hand before testing this new Description.

Unfortunately this Realm had a decided lack of such people. In fact, I hadn't found anyone of true faith yet. There was a delightful child who could heal, but no clerics. No paladins or oracles either. Why even their alchemists had forgotten what their craft is truly capable of. Where were the healing elixirs and tinctures to cure diseases? The local artificers called my wares impossible, yet with my mage sight their own works clearly glowed. Did they truly not understand the nature of what they did?

I picked up the fone those Protectorate people had given me. A strange device, not magic in the least yet capable of further reaches then the best communication spell or Description I'd heard of. It had been pro grimmed to contact the one called Armsmaster when I hit the upper left button. Why the man chose that particular name I don't know. He's not a master with his chosen weapon. Then again compared to others I've seen here, he might be considered one.

Once someone on the other end picks up I spoke. "Hi, it's Wordbender. How are the belts working out? … What do you mean they haven't been issued? … Of course they're safe! You don't think I'd sell something flawed, do you? … Sir cut tree? What in the abyss is that? … No, they're made from leather and thread then have enchantments layered on them. … No, it's not something anyone can do. … I haven't seen anyone in your realm yet that even acknowledges the arcane exists, let alone practices using it. … Yes, I know I told you your equipment radiates magic. But it reads like it was conjured, not enchanted. Listen, I just finished a project to help my friend's apprentice. … Yes, the one you're calling tesla. Anyway, I'm fairly sure it's safe to use. But I'd feel better if there were people on hand in case something goes wrong. Maybe that nice healer girl. I think she might be able to unbond a cursed object. And in a worst case situation save Tesla's life."

I listened to the man's rant about safety for a minute or two before cutting him off. "I do take every precaution. But this is an enchantment I've never tried before. And I've seen what can possibly go wrong when you're pushing your limits. I already checked to see if it's correctly enchanted. But here is the problem, most cursed items don't read as a cursed item until after you try using it. … Yes, I said cursed. The object in question should enhance Tesla's abilities. But I can't tell if it's correctly enchanted, or if I screwed up horribly and it only looks like I didn't. … No, the belts aren't cursed. I've been making those for twenty summers. I've long since gotten to the point where I can enchant them without mistakes."

I listened to the rather impressive rant about safety and regulations on tinker tech before asking "What, pray tell, is tinker tech?"

 _ **Flayre Blazefist**_

"I believe I've mentioned this before, but it is worth saying again. Fighting dragons is insane."

Even as I spoke I was casually weaving through the dragon man's attacks. Well, aside from that one punch early on. That had hurt quite a bit. This Lung person was suppose to be extremely dangerous. I could see it. He moved like the wind and was hard to hit. Well, for me at least. The kid and Rijorn seemed able to do so. He also regenerated alarmingly fast. And as he fought I could see him getting bigger and stronger. Probably tougher too. All in all, it was a nasty combination.

If the fight went on for too long, there was a good chance my companions and I would be dead. Fortunately help was on it's way. I was hoping said help consisted of many people who are skilled at dragon slaying. This was actually my first time doing so. I'd have loved to keep out of Lung's reach, but that's kind of difficult when he's immune to fire. So I had to settle for punching him with fists elementally charged with water. That... wasn't working so well either.

Fortunately Lung's rage made him reckless. That was something I was able to take advantage of. Twas even more fortunate when the dragon man shifted his focus from me and onto Rijorn. With flames surrounding the now eight foot tall man, he dove at Rijorn. His recklessness made it possible for her to evade the brutal claws and vicious bite which probably would have killed her. Worry over hitting her comrade stayed Taylor's hand, which was possibly a good thing.

Rijorn took a cautious step backwards and said "Ranthar lenbuci qfthik oufltha"

Instantly Lung stopped moving. A good thing too since he'd started going after those less defended. It was then that the promised backup finally arrived. Disappointingly, it was merely one man. Armsmaster stared at the scene before him without saying anything at first. Finally he pulled out his halberd and fired something at Lung. I could tell that it instantly knocked Lung out. Even so, dragons are known to be tricky. So I prepared to strike if Lung was faking.

"Do you often get sent out alone to deal with dragons?" I asked the armored man.

He ignored me for a moment. Which was fine since it was done to contain the dragon man.

"No, Punchsplosion" was his reply. "Everyone else is busy right now."

I don't understand this realm's obsession with giving nicknames to those with training or ability. The 'media', which I still was unclear about the nature of, had decided to call me Punchsplosion. Not sure why. I have a name, Flayre Blazefist. That should be good enough for people to know me by. Besides, 'punchsplosion' sounds rather idiotic. Then again my protege got saddled with being called Tesla. Which again I don't really understand the reasoning behind.

Rijorn is known in my home realm as The Wordbender, but that is because of what she does. She bends words, twisting them in unnatural ways. And this causes physical effects upon the world. People began calling me Blazefist because when I fight my fists are usually shrouded in elemental fire. That's normal. My father was called Cooper because he made barrels. And until I started making my own way in the world I was known as Cooperson, the son of the local cooper. Having a surname which denotes your profession or a distinctive attribute is normal.

These 'cape' names people of this realm insist upon though, that's just silly. Such thoughts were still on my mind an hour later as I made my way to a local clerical station. Or 'hospital' as the people here called to them. I'd been volunteering there for a while. Although why they kept giving me slips of paper I didn't know. Supposedly they were paying me. But I had yet to see any coins. What good is paper after all when you need to resupply your travel pack?

Actually, I'd yet to see anyone besides myself and Rijorn who carried real money. Copper coins seemed to be harder to come by then I'd ever seen. And those have the least value. And when I paid for a meal at one of the local taverns, the barkeep had gotten wide eyed when I handed him the two silver such a meal usually costs. Maybe it's about time to try heading home? Rijorn is fairly sure she knows what had gone wrong. And Taylor now is capable of defending herself.

Actually, fighting that Lung person had taught her a lot of new tricks. I learned a lot from it too, but not as much as Taylor had. Still, adventuring alone is dangerous. Maybe I should talk to her about joining the local team. I know she doesn't like the idea. And I can't blame her. But she'll need backup. This is a fact of life for an adventurer. Those who try going it alone, often die alone. Something to consider.

 **Author Notes:**

This is just one of many abortive attempts at writing a "Taylor is a kineticist" story I've done. This time around I brought in a word caster sorcerer and pyrokineticist I'd played in my local Pathfinder group to be her mentors. This too has been sitting for a while with no updates. I'm fairly sure the story is ether finished at or shortly after this point, or takes a new direction as the two central figures head home, leaving Taylor to handle things on her own.


	4. Displaced

**Displaced**

 _By_

 _Faerie Knight_

The life of a pathfinder was one of alternating life threatening combat and research. This was especially true for those who worked in the Dark Archive. As such Kahel was no stranger to dangerous situations. Even when working as an archivist her job was dangerous. The very fact that Kahel was a woman was proof of this. She'd been born a man after all. More then once an object recovered by other pathfinders had been accidentally triggered, thus causing an eruption of chaos. Thus it had become standard practice for Kahel to wear her armor while working in the archives.

Even so the far eastern woman had not expected a portal to appear in front of her while carrying a large stack of tomes to be studied. That she walked into this portal unintentionally was a matter of her distraction. After all, she did have trouble keeping the stack of tomes steady due to it's height. While it was true she could have stored the books in her haversack for transport, field reports had indicated placing these particular volumes in a magical storage medium was a bad idea. Those same reports didn't mention why it was a bad idea though. It was with a bit of annoyance that Kahel discovered the reason was due to the tomes becoming rather aggressive and trying to gnaw on your head if exposed to dimensional magics.

Subduing the tomes without damaging them proved quite the challenging task. After that Kahel pulled rope out from her haversack and bound them before shoving the entire lot in her pack. Shouldering the haversack once more, she looked around. _I appear to be in some sort of celestial hallway. What ever means of entrance appears to have vanished as well. How annoying. I suppose there is nothing but to explore. Endless hall behind me, endless hall before me, starry sky above... reminds me of my first expedition._

Like many kitsune, Kahel often hid what she was in the guise of being human. Although in the heat of an Absalon summer this could be practical too. Walking around in a fur coat could be rather uncomfortable when it was hot out. But unlike most of her family, she tended more towards the scholarly then mercantile or physical pursuits. Which wasn't to say she wasn't a capable warrior. Just that physical activity was something she disliked and tended to avoid when possible. An understandable view when considering that she wasn't particularly strong.

It was fortunate then that her skills tended more towards less physical things. From an encyclopedic knowledge of the natural world (and plane of air) to a surprisingly deep understanding of enchanted objects for one who was not a mage, she studied many diverse things. This made her a valuable researcher. But what made her useful in the field most often was her more esoteric talents. Namely the reason why she was called Kahel the Stormbender. She could command the winds and call forth lightning at the drop of a hat. To those who understood the nature of what she did, she was known as an aerokinetic. To most though she was considered a sorcerer with limited talents.

While some would call it sacrilegious, Kahel did not worship any of the gods. Which wasn't to say she didn't believe they existed. In truth she was pretty sure they did exist. She just didn't feel the need to pay lip service to beings who in all likelihood didn't care about her. Which was why she wasn't particularly subservient when a beautiful woman appeared next to the kitsune lass. Oh, Kahel recognized the goddess of sex and vengeance. The woman's image had appeared often enough in texts she studied to not recognize the goddess.

"To what do I owe this dubious honor?" She asked of the goddess.

To her surprise the goddess laughed. "Oh my, it's not often I am scorned. Are you not worried I shall feel offended."

"Should I be?" Kahel asked. "I mean, from what the texts say it's nearly impossible to know your motivations. But one common thread can be determined. Your reasons may be unknowable, but you are likely to either try seducing me or do something in vengeance for who knows what slight you are angry about. And it's not as if I could escape from you in either case. Now again, why are you bothering me?"

"Hmm," Calistria said thoughtfully. "I think I shall keep an eye on you my little vixen. Did you not wonder why you are here? And what this place is?"

Kahel paused in thought before responding. "It's a celestial realm, but other then that no. Not really. If there's information to be found on it somewhere, I may well research this place. But practically speaking, all I need to know is there's no way back to where I came from. That, and the road must go somewhere."

Calistria laughed once more before saying "This is a road, as you surmised. One used by summons to travel to the plane of their summoner. As well as by both celestial and infernal to travel the planes. You, my oh so adorable vixen, are being summoned to be a child's familiar. But I have a better plan for you."

With that the goddess sidled up to Kahel and pulled the kitsune woman into a passionate kiss. By the time Kahel was able to pull herself out of the dazed stupor the kiss had placed her in, Calistria was gone. Kahel also discovered her cloths were gone. The chain shirt too was missing. In it's place was a chain mail bikini made from the same enchanted silver as her previous chain shirt. Which naturally raised the question of how this would actually provide any protection. Her pack had vanished as well, but had been replaced by a pouch attached to her belt. A quick investigation showed that this pouch held everything that had been in her Handy Haversack.

 _I wonder what that was about_ Kahel thought as she continued down the seemingly endless road. As she walked Kahel passed a teenage boy in odd garb. He seemed to be going the same direction, and yet at the same time he wasn't. The physics of such a thing confused the scholarly kitsune. Eventually it started to get darker. It was impossible to tell how long she'd been walking though. Then without warning the endless road vanished. In it's place Kahel found her within an exceedingly small space.

Briefly she felt the presence of another person, then that vanished. The foul stench of rotting blood hit her nose next. A light breeze was called up to keep the disgusting aroma at bay while Kahel took in her situation. Light could be seen from three narrow slits. And it felt like she was encased in metal. _Even if it might get me free, blasting my way out would be a bad idea,_ Kahel decided right then and there. _Fortunately I can hear others. So assistance is possible._

"Excuse me, but would someone mind opening this container? It's rather cramped in here." Kahel called out.

 _ **Elsewhere**_

In a place quite far away both distance and dimensionally a young girl blinked at the summoning circle. She had felt her call being answered. And then something happened. There had been a snapping sensation, and then nothing. And now after ten minutes of waiting her familiar still hadn't appeared. It was quite perplexing since she was clearly a mage. And the ritual had worked exactly as it was suppose to. Adding on to the confusion was that a short while later the girl everyone called "The Zero" managed to not only cause an explosion (predictable), but also summon and bind a strangely dressed commoner as her familiar.

 _ **Earth Bet**_

 _This is going to hurt_ , Kahel thought when it became obvious everyone was ignoring her. The only consolation was that since she wasn't in her natural form, her fur wasn't getting befouled. And sure enough she found herself twitching and screaming in pain seconds after blasting the wall with the light filled slits on it. The wall, which turned out to be a door of some sort, erupted off it's hinges in a cacophony of thunderous sound. As the door flew across the hall it struck someone with a slightly quieter clang.

"Now then, is there a particular reason I found myself trapped in a metal closet filled with rotting blood soaked objects?" Kahel demanded of those in the hall.

With her ever present breeze whipping hair all about and the crackling electricity which sparked off her skin where ever it was exposed it was a fairly intimidating sight. Not that she would be able to hear any answers just yet. By long habit Kahel had infused her blast so that it detonated with the roar of thunder. As such she was currently deafened. It only took a maybe half a minute for the ringing in her ears to fade. At which point she discovered another problem.

"You... don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?"

Most of the youth were running in a panic. A few were holding up small black or gray objects which Kahel couldn't identify. And through it all it looked like she was no where near Absalom. With a long suffering sigh she pulled out a wand and muttered the trigger words. A wave of energy flowed through her, mending some of the damage her electric bolt had caused. But she still felt a great deal of pain. It took ten minutes of muttered triggers and growing agitation before she managed to get the wand to work enough times that she was mostly recovered. By that point in time she noticed an armored man holding an unusually styled halberd.

 _I've never seen armor like that before. By the gods, how would you even put it on?_ The armored man swung his polearm, and something flew out of it. The vortex of wind surrounding Kahel caused the small projectile to veer off and strike the wall beside her though. _Why does this always happen to me?_ She sighed and with a conscious effort of will suppressed the electricity which crackled around her. At the same time Kahel allowed the winds which surrounded her to die down. Even so she found herself having to dodge another projectile fired from the armored man's halberd.

"Why are you attacking me?" She tried asking in the most common language of her world.

When that failed to elicit a reaction of understanding she moved on to another of the many tongues she spoke. Next she attempted asking the same question in dwarven, a harsh language for a rough people. Not that dwarves were uncivilized, just that they were a warrior culture. When that didn't work either she tried the gnomish language. Again the armored man showed no sign of understanding. In fact she had to duck under a swing from his weapon. With a put upon sigh Kahel resumed her defensive screen of wind.

Moving on, she tried several of the regional languages she knew. That felt like a faint hope though. She didn't recognize the architecture around her at all. Nor had she heard of any nation who used armor like that. Still there was no sign the man could understand Kahel. In desperation she tried one last time, doubting he could understand the language of elves. Let alone that of celestial beings. It was with some amusement that Kahel noticed the man acting surprised when she spoke elvish. Perhaps he did understand that language?"

"I am a traveling scholar by trade, and warrior by necessity. The name is Kahel the Stormbender, what land might this be? I don't recognize the style of building. Nor have I heard of metal closets lining hallways."

As she spoke Kahel moved the scorched metal door she'd blown off the closet she'd found herself in. _As I thought, someone was struck by it._ After reaching into the pouch at her hip, the young woman withdrew a wooden stick. A few words spoken and the tip glowed with divine energy. Once that happened Kahel tapped the dark skinned girl she had accidentally hurt, causing several cracked ribs to noisily pop back into position and become whole once more. Even so the teenager looked to be in bad shape.

"This youth was injured when I escaped the befouled metal closet over there. While I have done what little I can, my resources are limited and unreliable. She needs to be tended to by a cleric." Kahel informed him in elvish.

 _ **XxXxX**_

He called himself Armsmaster, and he was confused. The reason for this confusion was not immediately obvious to any outside observer. Nor was the fact that he was confused something most would pick up on. His second in command had brought to him concerns regarding one of the wards. There was a pattern of behavior which he'd not noticed which indicated Shadow Stalker may have been violating her parole. Men and women, mostly men were being found with severe puncture injuries.

While Armsmaster had been aware of this, he'd disregarded the initial suspect due to her Protectorate phone never being anywhere near the scene of the crime. What Miss Militia had uncovered was that several of these suspiciously injured men and women had gained said injuries while Shadow Stalker was suppose to be on patrol with a fellow ward, usually Vista. The fact the GPS log showed Shadow Stalker's phone and com system were still in the PRT building during those patrols was enough to cause Armsmaster to start driving towards Winslow High School.

It was on his way that the PRT received calls regarding an unknown parahuman attacking the same school he was heading towards. Ordinarily this wouldn't have been as great of an emergency. Shadow Stalker was on the scene after all. That assessment got thrown out when he learned that Shadow Stalker's phone had gone dead just moments before the first call was placed. This indicated either she was the attacker, or had possibly been incapacitated by the attacker. Those phones were very durable, Armsmaster knew this because he built them.

What confused him was that the unknown parahuman was not, in fact attacking anyone when he arrived. Rather she, and it was a young woman of possibly Asian origin, was attempting to converse with people. This parahuman's costume was unusual too. She wore no mask or other means to disguise her identity. And other then a belt and large pouch at her waist, she wore a bikini made out of chainmail links. She also had in hand a possible tinkertech device shaped like a wooden stick. This she used to heal what looked to be electrical burns.

He noted the wind and electricity which surrounded the woman as he ordered "Surrender!"

When she didn't immediately comply he fired a sedative dart at the unknown parahuman. She said something, and again his translation program failed to decipher it. When the woman dodged his followup dart after she'd stopped actively using her powers it appeared far too practiced. The woman then started rotating through unknown languages one after another. Some sounded harsh and guttural, others almost musical. Eventually she used one his translator recognized. Strangely, it was a fictional language.

"I am a traveling scholar by trade, and warrior by necessity. The name is Kahel the Stormbender, what land might this be? I don't recognize the style of building. Nor have I heard of metal closets lining hallways." she said before moving a locker door to reveal an injured black girl and by all evidence healing the unconscious girl. "This youth was injured when I escaped the befouled metal closet over there. While I have done what little I can, my resources are limited and unreliable. She needs to be tended to by a cleric."

Looking in the indicated direction showed a locker that was filled with bloody tampons. Rotting bloody tampons. If this parahuman had come from within that, this was looking like a trigger event far more then an assault. Armsmaster turned over the blackened locker door and noted the name plate on it. He also noticed another thing. The teen had been struck by the locker door, something which she should have been able to dodge unless it had been right in front of her upon being launched. Since it appeared to have struck her head on...

"You can understand me, but not speak elvish. Right?" The woman asked, once more speaking the language of Tolkien's elves. Armsmaster nodded, at which point she continued. "Hmm, so possibly under the effects of a tongues spell. I assume you are one of the local guardsmen. As I mentioned, I am a scholar by trade. If you know someone who can converse in a shared language with me, I would be interested in learning more of this place."

XxXxX

Flight, for all it's usefulness was still a strange and unnatural thing for Kahel. While her connection to the elemental plane of air did allow her an instinctive knowledge of how to fly, her thoughts on the matter could be summed up quite nicely. _If kitsune were meant to fly,hwe'd have been born with wings!_ Winds buffeted her harshly, pushing the adventurer back and forth as she followed the armored man and his strange stead. Several times she narrowly avoided hitting one of the glass and tall metal structures. Then her luck ran out when trying to round yet another corner.

With eyes wide and arms crossed in front of her head Kahel slammed into a metal pole. This dazed the young woman, almost causing her to lose focus and fall to the ground. In fact it was only the instinctive knowledge of how to fly that kept her loft after the impact. The momentary loss of concentration also caused the crackling electricity to surrounded Kahel once again. After shaking her head to remove the mental fog she started after the armored man once more. Soon enough she reached the place her escort had been heading towards. It was with a low whistle that she took in the structure.

"That has to be the most solid fortification I have ever seen or read about. The tallest too. How was it constructed?"

The armored man didn't respond. Instead he halted his steed and dismounted. Seeing this Kahel came in for a landing. Once again her inexperience with flight showed as she plowed into the ground face first. On the other hand, she didn't expect him to respond due to not knowing a shared language. It was strange though. If he was under the effects of a tongues spell, why is it he could only understand elvish? _Yet another thing to research when I have a chance._ Feeling hungry, she reached into the pouch at her waist and pulled out a bundle of way bread. While dry and rather bland, it at least was filling. A decent sized piece of jerky rounded out her impromptu meal. This she washed down with a pull from her water skein.

From the raised eyebrows it was like these people had never seen magical storage containers before. Soon she was sitting in what looked like a meeting room. The guardsman was presumably looking for someone who could speak with her. In the mean time Kahel decided to study one of the tomes she'd originally been transporting. Only when she reached into the pouch her hand found not the tome she expected, but a sizable group of thin books. Withdrawing them, she frowned. _Don't recognize the design. And I definitely don't recognize the script. Where did they come from? And why are there so many?_

There proved to be fifty of the thin books in total. All of them bound with a thin wire that spiraled through the end. They were each hand written, and it looked like the same person had written them all. The final thin book also contained a cream colored paper folder. Although the paper was stiffer then anything Kahel had ever heard of. This had more handwriting on it, and was filled with papers which looked to be forms. As well as a slew of unusually glossy pictures and more papers which looked to be a standard format. What these forms and other papers were written in, the scholarly warrior couldn't say.

Examining the unfamiliar literature was put on hold when a woman wearing a green and black patterned outfit entered the room. The woman wore a neck wrap and half mask that were both patterned with stripes of red and white. And at the woman's side was something that vaguely resembled the unreliable black powder weapons one of her fellow pathfinders favored. To her practiced eye, the other woman's outfit looked like it might be good for sneaking around in the woods. The reasoning behind such a clashing mask and neck wrap however eluded Kahel.

"So, are you the linguist?" the pathfinder asked in elvish.

From there the meeting quickly progressed. At first Kahel explained how she had arrived to much disbelief.


	5. Worm One Half

Tattletale stared. That was all she could think to do. One second her team had been heading towards a confrontation with the rage dragon known as Lung. The next second there was a tornado three blocks away, and she could clearly see Lung caught within it. This tornado wasn't moving. Rather it was spinning in place. And if she looked closely, Tattletale could almost see a dragon head within the swirling vortex of wind. It was a rather unusual sight.

Trying to determine just how a tornado had come about in such a convenient location and without a cloud in the sky was almost enough to give her a Thinker headache. Her power told her this was the result of a man. Then it changed it's mind and informed Tattletale it was caused by a teenage girl. Next it told her the culprit was a brute/mover/combat thinker. Seconds later it again changed it's mind, telling her the person who did this had no powers. Whoever it was she was informed was a recent Trigger. Yet she also was informed they had twenty years of insane training under their belt.

"Well, I've seen enough." she helpfully told her team. "Let's go get something to eat."

With that the costumed teen turned around and started walking. Steadfastly she ignored the howling wind. Similarly she ignored the sound of something heavy impacting the ground behind her. The temptation to turn around and look was great, yet Tattletale resisted it. Her power kept insisting she give it more information to make an assessment. For once in her life Tattletale didn't want to know. Instead she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the protectorate.

If she had bothered to look, the teen would have been witness to Lung being flung out of the tornado. She would have then seen him land five feet away from her team mates. She also would have been witness to something nobody had ever seen before. Lung was unconscious when he landed. But she didn't observe any of these events. Nor did she witness a rather annoyed looking teenage boy of Asian decent stomp up to Lung and kick him for good measure. Perhaps not knowing this was kinder on her sanity.

 _ **XxXxX**_

While she had never considered the concept in the past, learning that her life was a lie truly sucked. Although she couldn't even blame her parents. They had been deceived as well. If it hadn't have been for the 'bitch trio' she might never have realized it either. After they had shoved her into a befouled locker Tayler had slipped into a deep coma. It was then that she met a Japanese man and a rather playful kitten. The man had explained that his name was Ranma, and that he was he her.

Or she was him. That had been very confusing to Taylor at the time. In fact it still was rather confusing after spending two months meditating to integrate the previously sealed memories. That, and making peace with the kitten in her soul. Being terrified of cats was simply too dangerous of a weakness. Then there was the other thing she'd found messing with her ki in unnatural ways. Whatever it was, it had flooded Taylor's body with an alien energy. This energy had torn through her, unlocking a curse the teen hadn't known she possessed. It had also strengthened her body, undoing the results a life of no appreciable athletic undertakings.

Beyond that, she had no idea what the energy was suppose to have done. During her first month of meditation she had managed to expel the alien energy entirely. It had taken another almost a month and a half of constant training after integrating both her past self and the kitten to regain the muscle memory that had been lost when she was effectively reborn fifteen years previous. Even now she still wasn't back in fighting form. Or rather, she wasn't back in what her memories insisted was good shape and adequate skill. Intellectually she knew that already Taylor was a ludicrously skilled martial artist.

She also had an equally ludicrous appetite. To feed her seemingly bottomless stomach she'd gotten a job teaching judo at a small dojo. She did so in her male form. People seemed to give more respect to a martial artist who was obviously Japanese rather then a Caucasian girl with curly brown, almost black hair. She still didn't know just what Ranma's enemies had done to change the appearance of her girl form. Even so, the additional respect was made up for with additional problems. Among them was the rage dragon known as Lung.

He barged into the dojo she was teaching at and declared "Saotome, you _will_ come with me."

Taylor, or Ranma Saotome as she called herself in public while male looked up from the student 'he' was correcting. There was a look of annoyance in his eyes and a frown on his lips. _Why wont he listen? I've told him again and again 'no'. He's as bad as Akane and Shampoo put together!_ Taylor thought in annoyance. _Then again, Lung's known as a rage dragon. Not as a reasonable businessman. I'd have thought pounding the ABB members he sent after me before was enough of a hint._

"Lung, I am not one of your gang members. I've already told your thugs I'm not joining. And I wont teach them either. So I'd suggest you leave."

The gang leader snorted. "I am Lung! All Asians work for me! Bow before the might of Lung!"

With a sigh Taylor ushered her students out the back. People like that only listened to one thing. Once the room was empty of bystanders she ran forward so fast that Lung almost thought 'he' had teleported. Her fist became embedded in Lung's stomach, propelling him out the dojo's front entrance and across the street. _Huh, no balance at all._ Taylor thought after witnessing this. The fact that she herself was super humanly strong and durable didn't even occur to her.

 _ **Thirty Minutes Later**_

When Armsmaster finally arrived at the scene of the disturbance he found a teenage boy sitting in the middle of the street and huffing slightly. The boy looked to be from the far east, and was wearing the tattered remains of a martial arts gi and pair of pants. They looked to have been severely burned multiple times, although the boy himself was unharmed. The boy had heavily bruised fists, although the bruising was going down as Armsmaster watched.

The street was trashed. Tar was bubbling in several places. There was visible wind damage on the buildings, probably from the tornado he'd seen on approach. And several buildings had holes of various sizes in them. That was in addition to the rampant fire damage. And from the smell, not all of the buildings had been empty when they were set ablaze. It was a mystery why there weren't any active fires though. Another one was where the tornado had come from.

"What happened here?" The armored hero demanded.

The teen shrugged and replied "Lung came into my class and demanded I work for him. I said no. He didn't take that very well."

According to Armsmaster's visor the teen was telling the truth. "And you are."

"I'm Saotome Ranma, master of the Saotome branch of Anything Goes. Sorry about this." The teen told the armored hero.

 _ **Partial lie,**_ Armsmaster's visor informed him. Which triggered the thought _What part is the lie?_ The armored hero was about to question the teen when Ranma sighed and jumped onto a nearby roof. The fact this took a couple smaller jumps didn't make the feat any less impressive. While he wanted to pursue the unknown cape, securing Lung was of greater importance. A tranquilizer dart was fired into the unconscious cape and a yellowish substance known as containment foam was used to further immobilize Lung. Considering how dangerous the man was, Armsmaster felt justified in the precaution.

Triggering his communicator, Armsmaster said "This is Armsmaster. I have lung subdued and awaiting pickup. Will now pursue an unknown cape that was also involved in the disturbance."

A grappling hook was launched out of his weapon, and pulled Armsmaster up onto the roof the other cape had used in his exit. When he arrived it was just in time to see the teenager he perused dropping off the far end of the building. The armored man raced across the roof and launched another grapple line. This he used to swing down to the ground. But already he had lost sight of his target. _Just how fast is he?_ Armsmaster thought in surprise. A teenage girl emerged from an alley, but he ignored her.

Only later would he wonder why the girl was dressed identically to the cape that Armsmaster had been chasing.

 _ **XxXxX**_

To any observer the teenage girl was a very skilled martial artist. Her kata flowed smoothly from one move into the next. The control displayed was only equaled by the power evident in each move. To Tayler Hebert however she was out of practice and out of shape. _I need more practice,_ she thought in disgust. _I should have been able to make that jump. And that overgrown newt was far too hard to defeat._ Even as the thought slipped through her mind, Taylor stepped up her practice. Still she kept things within the realm of what a normal human could do.

Although that part she just barely managed to achieve. This particular kata was one she'd known in her previous life. But it wasn't one that Ranma Saotome had practiced often. It was intended to help condition the body for both strength and endurance. It did so by having the practitioner's body work as it's own counter force with each movement. In Taylor's opinion, it was one of the few worthwhile things that Happosai had created. And it was who created the kata which had put Ranma Saotome off from using it.

But for someone in need of retraining and reconditioning, it was perfect. The sounds of traffic didn't impinge upon her concentration. Nor did she notice someone knocking on the front door. Although to be fair Taylor couldn't have heard that if she wanted to. Not from the back yard. Nor did she hear the gate opening and someone entering the back yard. The first indication she wasn't alone was someone clearing their voice and a hand being placed on Taylor's shoulder.

Two decades of response conditioning caused her to grab the wrist twist her body. The other hand reached out and grabbed what felt like an armored vest. Seconds later the intruder was sailing over Taylor's shoulder and into the fence. Only then did she notice who it was she had thrown. The uniform was one she'd seen far too often on the news. As such the followup attacks were instantly aborted. Putting a PRT trooper into the hospital was never a wise idea after all.

"Sorry about this," Taylor said while she rubbed the back of her neck.

 **Author Notes:** Yes, I am well aware that this Taylor Hebert is out of character. As explained, there IS a reason for that. She has the full life of a 25 year old Ranma Saotome integrated into her memories. As well as the psyche of kitten, aka the neko-ken being fully integrated. Compare that to a mere 15 or so years and try claiming she wouldn't be different.

Is the Worm universe the same as the Ranma universe? I haven't fully decided yet. Considering Ryoga somehow managed to walk from Japan to China, and in the manga it shows him with famous landmarks from around the world in the background now and then, clearly there's something weird about his getting lost. But can he casually and unknowingly cross the dimensional divide? Still thinking on that, but I'm tentatively thinking no he can't in this story.


	6. Bane of the Night 2

It was a rare event for a parahuman to not wear a mask when in public. New Wave did so, as did several case 53 capes. But they were the exception rather then the rule. There were a plethora of reasons behind this fact. One of the biggest reasons though was the need to hide one's identity from their enemies. The major reason New Wave's attempt to convince all parahumans to reveal their identity and accept accountability failed was the death of one of their members. A murder which happened in her civilian identity.

Although to be honest, I didn't really pay much attention to such things. I don't wear a mask, don't use some hokey code name, and I advertise in the phone book. Then again, I'm not a parahuman. I'm a psychic. One who's talents lend towards a very specific path. I can make specific equipment to hunt down supernatural threats. My name is Susan Wellington, and I am a monster hunter. Go ahead, laugh. I'm use to it. But when the monster under the bed proves to be real, remember my business number. My rates are very reasonable.

To be fair however, the things I deal with don't make the local news very often. Let alone the national news. To most people demons, ghosts, vampires, and werewolves are the stuff of movies only. Magic and psionics are thought to mere fantasy too. Then again, it's difficult to prove the existence of magic and psychics when such phenomenon are weak at best and unreliable at worst when being studied. Even when a group of civilians get caught in a mage's fireball, there's little proof it was more then just a pyrotechnic illusion.

You have to understand however, it's not like the movies. There is no retirement in my line of work. And it's rare for us reach the age of forty, let alone see old age. Those who try to go solo rarely last more then a few weeks, at best. The most successful hunters work in a team. Even if it's just one other person, it can make the difference between life and death. And if you can manage it, having a diverse team with different specialties can definitely improve your chances of survival.

How do I know all this? I've been a Hunter for going on fifteen hundred years now, give or take a few cycles. The natives of this world called it Earth Bet, I called it my retirement. You see, I'm not from Earth Bet. When my mother sent me here, it was because the gods themselves couldn't enter this dimension. Neither could true demons or devils. But that didn't mean there weren't supernatural threats. Until my arrival however the forces of Good couldn't empower champions. Something was preventing that. And even after twenty years there still weren't enough people to fight in this shadow war.

I use to work with a woman named Annette. But she retired to raise a family. Unfortunately the things I fight don't accept excuses such as "I'm retired". Something tracked her down. Her husband Danny was on the phone with Annette when she died. He had wanted to hunt the creature down himself. I managed to convince him not to. But it hit him hard. Don't think he managed to recover. And it probably didn't help much that I couldn't find out who or what had attacked Annette.

While I tried to keep in touch with the family, the business never really stops. There's always something to hunt, although it isn't always in the same city. But work had brought me back to Brockton Bay once again, as it always seems to do. I was half convinced this coastal city was somehow going to be a key factor in the Apocalypse. A succubus I had been tracking had lead me strait towards one of the city's high schools. Fortunately school had already ended for the day.

As I was cleaning up after this latest hunt my phone rang. I didn't recognize then number, but very few people knew how to contact me in this way. Among them were the top levels of the PRT. They officially didn't believe in the supernatural. But every now and then they called upon me for something they flat out couldn't handle. Such as the time a phantom had taken up residence in the Dallas branch's wards facilities. Flipping open the phone, I wondered who it was this time.

"Wellington here. What's the problem? Seriously? Yeah, I've heard of 'the bane of the night' before. Nightbane are just like anyone else. There's good ones and bad ones. Although most I've encountered tend to be protectors. Why do you ask? WHAT?! Piggot, I warned you about letting a sociopath psi on your team. I don't care if she had a good lawyer or character witnesses. You did notice the character witness was the daughter of the lawyer, didn't you? Fine, I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm cleaning up here. Nothing serious, just an attempted demon summoning at a school called Winslow."

I hung up and went back to disrupting the various runes and summoning arrays scattered throughout the school. Most of them didn't have any real power behind them. Those ones were likely kids who found a ritual circle in some book and though it would be a cool gang tag. Others were not so innocent. It was a small wonder this school hadn't been sucked into one of the abyssal realms. In fact I had to put down several imps during the entire process. And destroy an incomplete array that looked to be a permanent doorway.

Once finished I secured an itemized invoice to the principle office door. Next I sent a digital photograph of the invoice to the school board. A message informing them that Winslow High was being billed and not the school district was included. In my message I also mentioned that their copy was to prevent the school from claiming they never received the bill. While such a service was something I would do for free, a girl does have to eat. And it's rather difficult to hold down a normal job when you travel the country hunting monsters.

With that detail taken care of, I headed out towards my car. It's not a big one, just an old Geo Metro. Really it's more of a 'lego with wheels'. Still, big enough to hold my gear and fuel efficient. Plus nobody in their right mind would think it worth stealing. While my half brother prefers bikes, I could never get the hang of balancing them. Andrew did modify my car though. He replaced the engine with one powered by my psychic abilities. Although why it sounded like a violin when running I have no clue. His bike is silent.

The trip didn't take very long. Then again there's not much traffic in Brockton Bay on the best of days. Too many gangs who are happy to steal your car. Too much poverty as well. There's a great many factors that led the city to this state. After parking I geared up. My sword was slipped into it's sheath, which was strapped across my back. Gun was loaded with telekinetic bullets and holstered on my right hip. The customized shotgun was holstered on my back as well. My armor was exchanged for a new set. Fighting the demoness had trashed my current armor. Repairs would take a while. And finally I pulled on a pair of heavily modified welding goggles.

As I said, my gifts lend towards fighting monsters. Most of them involve making highly specialized equipment only I can use. The few other things I can do all aid in my vocation. My goggles for example let me see invisible beings. The shotgun shoots fireballs instead of bullets, useful when facing a vampire or other specific supernatural threats. The sword too is customized for fighting the supernatural. It's actually not very effective on mortals, but against demons it cuts like a hot knife through butter.

The only real problem with my equipment has always been getting it past security. Guards generally frown on bringing guns and swords into government buildings. Unless you're one of those guards that is. It doesn't matter that I've gotten a special disposition a few years ago. Or that most of my weapons are useless in the hands of anyone else. Someone wants to swing my devil sword around? Despite it's size and weight it'll hit about as hard as a dagger, not the two handed sword it actually is. Someone steals my ecto shotgun or ghost gun, well, they've got a fancy club. As for my backup armor, it was made using a plastic He-Man harness as the base instead of a Kevlar vest. It's my backup armor for a reason.

Anyway, as I expected the front guards got rather upset with me being visibly armed. By the time I had convinced them I do indeed have authorization to keep my weapons, and do have an appointment with the director, it had been nearly half an hour. _You'd think these idiots would realize that when I'm called in the shit is about to hit the fan in ways they're entirely unprepared for._ I thought in disgust. Every time the Protectorate or Parahuman Response Team called me in, they then seemed to forget they needed me because they couldn't handle whatever was happening.

Naturally an escort was assigned to guide me. Director Piggot's office was about half way up the building, contrary to popular opinion. It actually makes sense though. Having the office of the director on the top floor or next to a window was too great of a risk. I assume she changes where exactly her office is regularly as well. I would if I was her. And I'm no where near as paranoid as that woman is. Cautious, yes. But paranoia can get you killed just as easily as it can save your life.

The smell hit me first. Blood and rot, not good at all. Even as I kicked open the door I was drawing my pistol in one hand and shotgun in the other. A bit of focus caused a field of force to shimmer around me for a moment then settle into invisibility. In my experience nothing that smells of blood and rot is good. In fact it's usually nasty enough to wipe out a small town or three. That was when I got a good look at the source of the foul stench. The figure had spun around when I kicked the door open.

"Aunt Sue?" The figure asked hesitently.


	7. Ranger

The idea of heroes and villains is not a new concept. In truth it's as old as humanity. For as long as there has been hardship and strife, there have been tales of heroes. Some were noble. Some were selfish. Some had great ambitions, while others merely were struggling to return home. Look at the myths and legends of various cultures and you can see these heroes enshrined in popular consciousness. Works of fiction about dealing with this theme.

But while the idea of heroes is an old one, the idea of the Super Hero is much newer. It began in the early twentieth century. The Shadow, an enigmatic entity introduced tales of crime and criminals being brought to justice. This enigmatic host figure then evolved into the central focus of the radio drama. Instead of just being the host, The Shadow became the main protagonist in a series of crime mysteries. Pulp novels soon followed to further detail this character's exploits. For who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of man?

Then there were the tales of Doc Savage and countless others. Pulp magazines gave way to comic books. And in these publications you could find the adventures of Hourman, Superman, Batman, and many others. But it was still a young medium. Stories were not as deep as the radio dramas of old. Radio dramas gave way to televised serials. This gave the world the adventures of Zorro and The Lone Ranger. The masked crime fighter had become a well established part of western culture.

Over time the stories grew more complex. The motivations of the villains became more grandiose in scale. Sometimes the villain was sympathetic. While they were clearly evil, you couldn't help but empathize with them. But through it all there were still a core set of ideals. Heroes always triumphed in the end. Good always defeats Evil. And Right always triumphs over Might. All of that came crashing down in the early 1980's. When the fantasy of heroes fighting villains became reality, the world lost it's collective innocence.

But that's not entirely true. The old stories didn't come out of nowhere. In every myth and legend there is always a grain of truth. But reality isn't as neat as fiction. Motivations are not clear cut. There is no good or evil most of the time. There is only doing what you feel is the right thing. Sometimes that is donning a mask and protecting people from ruthless land barons while praying nobody realizes it's you. Other times it's something else. You never really can tell.

But when you've lived as long as I have, you tend to notice patterns. The Lone Ranger for example is based on my time as a Texas ranger. There was no mask, and I didn't use silver bullets. No idea how that idea came about. I'd played the role of the wandering lawman, and I played it well. Before that I had been a land owner down in Mexico, occasionally doing my part in secret to protect the commoners. And still earlier I had been a wandering warrior in what the western world likes to call the 'far east'.

You have to understand, I've walked this Earth for a long time. Longer then recorded history in fact. Which is ironic since I was born in the early eighties. In my youth I was brash and cocky. I thought I was the best in the world, and was more then willing to boast about it. Without even trying I cause much hardship. But in my arrogance I mouthed off to the wrong person. And in that moment I found my doom. One curse was lifted from me, but in it's place a new one was laid.

I don't actually remember who I was, just what I was like. And the dusky skinned woman's words. It's been so long anything else gets hazy. And I'm pretty sure this isn't my original Earth. For one thing I don't remember anything about a golden skinned man flying around and rescuing people. Then again, my memory of back then is spotty. But I'm getting off track. As I was saying, the arrival of Scion was the death knell for the belief in Super Heroes.

Oh it wasn't immediate. At first the world thought it was comics come to life. And in a way that's true. But it wasn't comics about heroes and villains, good vs evil. No, it was horror. Stories of monsters and the men who attempted to stop them. As the death toll from various 'villains' rose the world realized just how deadly serious this new game of "cops and robbers" really was. Then Behemoth showed up. Followed with the death of the first known 'real' hero. A man who unimaginatively called himself Hero.

Me, I've always been around. I move to the worst area and quietly do my part to keep the lid on things. Not that it's always possible to stay low profile. Take tonight for example. While out patrolling my neighborhood I noticed an excessively large and diverse swarm of insects. Following them leads me to the scene of a Lung rampage. _Here we go again,_ I think to myself even as I jump onto a street light. I pull on an old white domino mask. I've had it since the 1800's or so due to the events in Mexico.

When the dragon-man jumps towards a roof I act. A flying kick knocks Lung off his trajectory, sending him careening into the ground. I use the force of the kick to launch myself onto the roof Lung had tried jumping onto. There I see a rather sinister looking figure in an armored costume. From the look of the outfit, I assume this person has something to do with the swarm. But I've no idea if they're a criminal or not. From the look, possibly a criminal.

"Why did you piss off Lung, of all people?" I have to ask him or her, I can't actually tell.

When the other person squeaked it was a little amusing. "H-he mentioned shooting kids."

I nod thoughtfully. That would be enough for a rookie to assume the worst. But I've spoken with Lung in the past. And while he does let pride and anger cloud his judgment quite often, he is honorable to a point. One of those points was that he doesn't deliberately target innocents. That's not to say his rampages haven't killed children. Or that he doesn't allow his gang to harm innocents. He does. But Lung would never order an attack on children. Which meant there was something more going on.

I am about to mention this fact when Lung made his reappearance. This time he is a bit bigger, and has wings starting to form. Definitely more beast then man now. I reach into a pocket and pulled out my hunting rifle. Not that I expect it to be that effective. Taking aim, I fire into Lung's mouth as he roared. That got his attention in a big way. I've already started to stow my rifle away once more. It's an antique after all, and I'd rather it not get melted down.

"Why don't you calm down and try talking for a change?" I prompt. "I like the restaurant near here, and would rather you don't burn the neighborhood to the ground, again."

As I speak I pull an old black vest out of my pocket and put it on. On the left breast of the vest is a tin Texas Ranger badge. They hadn't used that style of badge for a couple centuries. I also pull out a white stetson hat and put it on. Since this looked to be a full on 'cape' situation, I might as well finish dressing the part. I might try to stay under the radar, but I do find it amusing that once again rumors of "the lone ranger" have been going around. The identity had been an accident in the old west. And it kind of just grew out of control this time too.

 **Author Notes:**

This one I started working on a couple years ago. Originally it was going to be an essay on heroes and heroism as portrayed in modern culture. But it quickly morphed into an actual story. The base idea that formed as I was writing was that the Lone Ranger was real, and an immortal wanderer. As the story hints at, my concept was that Ranma Saotome was that immortal wanderer. It's an amusing idea. The problem is that the next day when I sat down to continue writing, I kept drawing a blank. Since then I've still been unable to figure out how to continue this one.


	8. Worm One Half 2

Since the locker something had changed in Hebert. She was still prey, still refused to defend herself. And yet something was different. It was barely noticeable at first. The weakling made less sound when moving and paid more attention to everyone around her. Not that much more attention, but it was enough for a Predator like herself to notice. The weakling's habits also started to change. Instead of hiding out in the bathrooms Hebert would disappear. This started a month after the Locker, and it took two weeks for Sophia to figure out where the other girl was going.

The roof, although how Hebert was getting up there Sophia had no idea. The door was always locked. And when she'd barricaded the door once that hadn't prevented Hebert from getting onto the roof. Yet at the same time the barricade had been left intact. It made no sense. But then, neither did a few other things she'd observed about the weakling. Hebert was growing ever more confident for some reason. The weakling still acted like prey otherwise, but was definitely more confident. It was clearly visible in her eyes if one knew what to look for. And Sophia did know what to look for.

And her movements were too practiced, too fluid. Hebert now moved like a trained fighter. And it was becoming ever more obvious. Enough so that a few of the E88 gang members in the school had noticed and decided to back off. But what sort of fighter, what sort of _predator_ would take naps under the midday sun after eating a surprisingly large lunch at astonishing speeds? For that matter, how could such a wimp have carried that much food without anyone noticing? And what sort of fighter would allow themselves to be bullied?

It made no sense, and was making even less sense as the months went on. With frustration mounting due to the other girl, Sophia decided to find out once and for all if Hebert had somehow become a predator or was still a weakling prey. To that end Sophia moved up behind her intended victim. A quick look around showed there were no teachers around that would try stopping her. So she moved with the intention of forcefully slamming the Hebert into a locker head first a few times. If she really was a fighter, this would provoke the girl to fight back. If not, maybe the weakling would finally learn her place.

Without warning Hebert bent over to pick up a dropped pencil. One foot ended up getting in Sophia's way, and as the other girl stood she accidentally elbowed Sophia in the back. Due to already being off balance due to her victim not taking the push and being tripped, the elbow caused Sophia to slam into the locker, breaking her nose in the process. Angrily Sophia pushed off the locker and spun around to face Hebert.

"Are you okay? That looked painful." Hebert asked as she placed a hand on Sophia's shoulder.

To Sophia's ire this occurred just as she was charging the other girl. Only Hebert had somehow gotten out of the way. And that hand had applied enough force that Sophia was pushed across the hall and into another locker. If it wasn't for that damn cocky smirk Sophia might have almost believed both to have actually been accidents. As it was the noise had attracted the attention of the computer teacher, one of the only teachers who would defend Hebert. The day was April 8, 2011. And Sophia Hess vowed to get her revenge.

 _April 11,2011_

 _This is a waste of my time,_ thought Sophia angrily as she and Vista preformed a boring 'patrol' of the Boardwalk. She'd rather have been out hunting, not doing these stupid 'be seen doing something' PR stunts. There were no muggings to stop, no gang members to rough up, and even the dipshit duo of Uber and Leet had only been running a Mario Kart themed go-kart race track. Complete with the proper licenses to run it legally. Admittedly the kids (and a few adults) were enjoying participating in and watching the event.

So when a tornado spontaneously formed over in what looked to be ABB territory Sophia had ditched the looser and went to so something _important._ Only by the time she got there everything was over. There was no indication of who had been involved or what it had been about other then a lot of wind and fire damage. One of the least damaged buildings had a simple sign on the marquee which read _Open Hand Dojo_. Seeing nothing she could learn from the wreckage, Sophia decided to head back to the PRT building. Maybe there she could learn more about what had happened.

An hour later an out of breath Shadow Stalker had made it to the PRT building. Sophia then spent the next two hours being chewed out for abandoning Vista during a patrol. Once she'd managed to get away from that Sophia skulked around the building trying to find more information on what the tornado had been about. But that was difficult to do. These people were _paranoid_. The most she'd been able to learn was that Armsmaster was angry and Lung had been captured somehow. She was about to leave when she overheard one of the PRT officers saying something about talking to 'Miss Hebert'.

 _What?! Why would they be talking to that piece of trash? She's nothing! Wait, did they say something about Winslow? That_ _ **bitch**_ _! She knows who I am, doesn't she? Is that what she's been writing about in those notebooks in that weird code? No, she can't do this to me! I'm a predator, not her! She's just useless prey! But what can... Yes, that might work. That might work nicely._

 _April 12, 2011_

Skipping school today had been a no brainer. She'd pretended to be sick, and her worthless mother hadn't even questioned it. That gave Sophia plenty of time to prepare. Stealing a pair of gloves and a scoped rifle from a sporting goods store had been child's play. She also grabbed a box of bullets for the rifle even though it would only take one. The rest she could ditch along with the rifle to make the frame job more believable. The hardest part was figuring out how to build a silencer then getting to a good sniping position without being noticed.

She would have preferred to use a crossbow for this. They were silent, elegant, the true weapon of a real predator like herself. Not like this rifle. Guns were too noisy and fought against you. But a crossbow bolt would have been too distinctive. And the last thing Sophia wanted was for this to lead back to her. She'd take out both of them, then be long gone before a response could be arranged. She'd already decided on where to plant the rifle as well. It would look like a gang hit, perfect.

As Sophia attached her makeshift silencer she briefly considered what she was about to do. If she was caught it would be... bad. But she wouldn't be caught so that didn't matter, did it? And after killing Hebert she would stash the rifle in the home of a suspected Empire 88 member. Or maybe in the home of one of the PRT officers that looked down on her. No, the gang member option was better. Less likely anyone would think twice about it. _Shit_ Sophia thought as she looked through the scope.

The officer had arrived by the time Sophia had found a good position. Knowing this would complicate things, she lined up the first shot to take out the PRT officer first. This would cause the weakling to whimper and curl up into a ball. Easy pickings. After that Sophia could move in, find whatever evidence Hebert had, and be gone before anyone knew anything was wrong. _Any second now, there!_ She pulled the trigger, and the rifle barked louder then she thought it would have. Only things didn't go as planned.

"The fuck?!" Sophia exclaimed as the weakling _moved_ in a blur just before something impacted Sophia in the forehead hard enough to flip her onto her back.

 _ **XxXxX**_

There were times Lieutenant Sarah Hale loved her job. The pay was crap, the hours were long, and she'd attended the funeral of far too many co-workers. And yet there was nothing she would rather do then work in the Parahuman Response Team. Hale came from a long line of cops who stood as a shield between the people and criminals. And she was no different then her ancestors. Six times they had tried to promote Hale into a desk job. Six times she'd turned the promotion down. Her place, she felt, was doing her part on the streets. Not filling out endless paperwork and playing politics.

It was dangerous and Lieutenant Hale had been hospitalized eight times in the last two years alone. But that was something you expected to happen when you're a normal woman facing the likes of Lung and Hookwolf. One thing she hadn't expected was being thrown fifteen feet through the air and hitting a fence with her back. Not when she'd been sent to speak with a potential witness to the Lung take down the previous day. This was particularly jarring due to the girl who threw her looking like the proverbial ninety eight pound weakling. The girl then looked like she was about to follow up the throw with an attack.

 _How could she attack from that distance?_ Sarah thought with more then a little concern. While it was unusual for brutes to have a ranged attack, it was not unheard of. And after a shoulder throw like that there was no way the young Miss Hebert was not a brute. Sarah slid to the ground then slowly eased her way back onto her feet. _Ow, I'm glad I decided to wear the under armor for this._ Sarah groaned as she approached the teen once more. _Was that karate or judo?_

"Neither," the teen commented.

 _How? Is she a telepath..._ Sarah thought.

"No, you're just thinking aloud. Must still be rattled. Again, sorry about that." Hebert informed her.

"... Oh."

"You really shouldn't try to grab a martial artist when they're practicing."

Sarah wasn't quite sure what to say about that. So instead she decided to move on to the purpose of her visit. "We have eye witnesses that place you near the Stalwart Fist dojo at 9:30pm, what can you tell me about Lung's last night?"

Taylor smirked and said in reply "Nothing, out here. Why don't you come inside, we'll talk over tea. How much do you know of The Art?"

As Sarah followed the teen into the building she noticed some other incongruities. _The briefing said nothing about her martial arts, and I could hear the captial letters when she said 'the art'. Maybe a combat thinker? And holy hell, how can she move so quietly?_ Her host took off her shoes at the door, which struck Sarah as an odd thing to do when it's not raining or snowing. The winter had been unseasonably, and it hadn't rained for a week. This meant there was no snow or mud in the bark yard, so why take off her shoes?

"The Art is more then what most people think it is," Taylor began while she started to make tea. "To most people Bruce Lee was the pinnacle of what The Art can do. But most people are wrong. If someone's truly dedicated they can push beyond the normal limits of the human body. You begin to understand and use the energy that flows through you to strengthen your body, enhance your reflexes, and in some cases devise new forms of attack."

"And this relates, how?" Sarah asked even as she wondered why a cape would try justifying their abilities like that.

"Because you're looking for a Martial Artist, not a parahuman. Everything he did last night he had to train to do. Insane and brutal training the likes of which would kill most people. And he'd been training in The Art since he was five. When Scion was first spotted he was traveling China with his father after having swam there from Japan. When the rest of the world was hearing rumors of the first real 'super heroes' he was fighting a life and death battle against a self proclaimed kami at the age of sixteen. A battle that destroyed a mountain. It was the second time one of his battles leveled a mountain. Lung is called a dragon? He's fought people with the blood of dragons when he was fifteen. Compared to them, Lung is a cheap imitation. And if his enemies hadn't ambushed him three years before it happened, he would have been there to defend Kyshu."

Without warning the teenage girl's hand shot out. This action was accompanied by glass falling to the floor after being shattered from the outside. To Lieutenant Hale's shock Taylor then dropped a bullet to the table while shaking her hand. The second the window had shattered Sarah had dove to the ground for cover. Her host on the other hand grabbed a saucer from the table and threw it out the broken window with great force. The teen then nodded in a satisfied way before turning back to the PRT officer.

"First time my enemies have attacked from an ambush without screaming their intent to kill me. I wonder who it was? Ryoga, Kuno, and Mousse are dead. And the others would never have considered using a gun. The shooter should be on the roof across the street."

 _All good things must come to an end, I suppose._ Thought Taylor as she went to check on the sniper. She didn't think the throw had been lethal. On the other hand, it had been nearly twenty years since she'd last used a tea cup as a weapon. As such it was possible she'd misjudged how hard to throw it to only knock out a 'normal' person. Against someone like Herb, Ryoga, or even herself such a throw would have hurt but otherwise been harmless. Might have hurt a bit less then catching a bullet actually. _Personal note: don't try catching bullets again even if I can do it._

After crossing the street the teen looked at the roof for a moment, then at the PRT officer who had followed her. _Since I'm apparently not allowed to have secrets in this life either..._ She wrapped an arm around Officer Hale's waste and jumped onto the porch roof. Another quick leap brought them both to the roof and the would-be sniper. It took a moment for the identity of the shooter to sink in. But when it did a crimson aura of raw power erupted around Taylor.

"Sophia Fucking Hess. Ruining my grades, my reputation, then trying to kill me with a bio-hazard filled locker wasn't enough for you?" Taylor snarled at the African American teenager she had hit with a tea saucer.


End file.
